


in the wrong place (trying to make it right)

by bowlingfornerds



Series: tumblr prompts [28]
Category: The 100
Genre: Canon Universe, Clarke comes home, F/M, Kinda violent but its not all that graphic because I suck at writing violence, after season 2, description based, grounders, not lots of dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The day Clarke came home, she almost didn’t."</p><p>Clarke left three months before after the fall of Mount Weather, and now she's coming home. But, when she arrives, she finds a few of the delinquents going out on a mission - Clarke decides to go along too, hoping it'll be easier to return after some more time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the wrong place (trying to make it right)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from One Republic's 'Come Home'.
> 
> An anon prompted me on tumblr with: 'Clarke comes home', and even though I've written her coming home before, I couldn't resist. So here we are. Kind of Bellarky? But not in the slightest. It's there. Maybe. Kind of. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The day Clarke came home, she almost didn’t.

The woods were her home and as she neared the clearing in which Camp Jaha was settled, her skin burned to stay inside the shelter of the trees. Her time away had done her good; the mountain air cleared her lungs and lakes she sat by cleaned her skin of imperfections – but her heart was still broken; lying shattered in her chest.

She knew that only Camp – the people she left behind – could fix that.

Clarke stopped, far enough away that she couldn’t yet see the camp, but close enough that she could imagine them; picture the way the broken shards of the Ark rose into the sky, the smoke from the camp fires, the fences riddled with electricity.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself, a mantra that she’d been repeating for the weeks that she’d been journeying back to Camp. Her body was clothed in Grounder garb; jackets and furs that she picked up along the way, from the corpses of those who dared to attack her, from the villages that would let her pass through without harm. Her hair was still golden, like the sun. She had covered it in mud, at first, when she realised that it was too noticeable – that the Grounders weren’t happy with her existence – and while she turned to berries and flowers, she found that their colours wouldn’t stay long, and leaked off in the rain.

Clarke wanted to turn back – of course she did. She wanted to hide for another few months; let her people thrive without her, and return when she’d managed to patch herself up in a way that deemed appropriate – but she couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t do it on her own.

She couldn’t bear to see Lexa; standing tall and strong with no hint of emotion over those that died because of her. She knew she would crumble and fall apart, heaving sobs and clenched fists so familiar from her time away.

She knew that she would have to be fixed before she could lead anyone again – because that was who she was. She was a leader, and although Clarke doubted anyone would turn to her now, after all this time, she wondered if any would consider it. She wondered if they’d let her claw her way back to a standing – something that didn’t involve war and battle, because she was done with the blood that stained her hands. She just wanted to keep them safe.

Clarke forced herself forwards, towards Camp – where she could hear the yelling and movement from so far away. She stood at the outskirts of the woods; watching them walk around – the guards with their guns on patrol, the children cartwheeling across the ground that they lived to see. It was bigger than she remembered; they’d expanded outwards, and Clarke recognised a few animals, caught in pens and a farm of sorts growing in another place. Huts were slowly being erected across the ground, but she assumed they would all stay in the Ark like they had before.

Then she saw her first familiar face and Clarke considered running away again.

Nathan Miller stood by the main gate; motionless with a gun in his hands. He was obviously on watch and Clarke wondered if he liked being a guard; following in his father’s footsteps. She thought that he would stay a part of Bellamy’s militia, with Monroe and the few others who mastered the guns early, but there he was all the same.

He moved, though, turning as a group approached him and slowly the gates were opened. Clarke shrunk back into the brush, watching Miller lead the small group – Monroe, Harper, Monty – out into the open, each toting a gun and a bullet-proof vest. Part of her was disappointed at Bellamy not being in the group, but Clarke didn’t think she could face him, anyway.

She wasn’t ready to return to Camp, so Clarke waited for a few minutes, until the group was into the woods and far enough away, before following.

She stayed a little while behind, making slow movements, gentle steps. Clarke had gotten better at tracking and remaining hidden, during her time away, and so they didn’t notice her for quite some time. They were talking; Monroe held a map and Harper wandered ahead. Monty and Miller walked beside each other, talking, guns lax in their hands.

Clarke had to assume that the territory was theirs; that Lexa had given them this land, or they would be more worried of their surroundings.

At one point, she was close enough to hear Monty’s laugh. At another, she heard Harper’s voice.

“We’re the world’s worst Scouting Party,” she complained and Clarke frowned, wondering why they needed one.

“I think they just want us out of the way,” Monroe agreed.

“They know we’ll take Bellamy’s side if we’re there during the meeting,” Miller continued with a shrug.

“Then shouldn’t we go back?” Monty asked. Miller shook his head.

“We have to map something out, or they’ll say this was useless. Besides, Bellamy can hold his own, and we can protest later if they’re not sending out a search party for her.” Clarke let them move on a little way forward as she pondered over their words.

She was glad that Bellamy still had a position of power – that he hadn’t been demoted in her absence. She knew he could function perfectly without her, yet it still stung that he didn’t seem to need her at all to have an important role. Then she thought over who they would be searching for – she immediately thought it was her, but she’d been away for three months, wouldn’t they have gone looking before now?

Clarke continued to follow, holding her tongue and watching as Monroe guided them through the woods. They’d been outside for a long while; possibly an hour or two, before she stood still.

“We have officially never been here before,” she announced, making a mark on the paper. The four of them lifted their guns and looked around as Clarke ducked behind a tree.

“Let’s take a look around, mark it and go home,” Miller instructed. Belatedly, Clarke realised that she’d seen their markers before – they were red ‘A’s, marked on trees, and she had passed them off as a Grounder thing, rather than one of the Ark’s. Then, she realised she’d been in their territory for days and sighed.

Clarke sunk down into the brush and waited as her old friends wandered about.

“Clear!” She heard eventually, Harper’s familiar voice ringing out through the woods.

“Clear!” Came Miller’s call. She heard footsteps and waited, leaning her head against the tree she was hiding by. She shot up at the sound of a gunshot.

“Who was that? Monroe? Monty?” Miller’s voice was rushed and Clarke wondered why they didn’t have walkie talkies – were there not enough at Camp? She assumed they’d give them out for these sort of expeditions.

“It’s Monroe!” Monty yelled. “She went West!” Clarke stood up, peeking around the tree as her friends ran off in the same direction. She followed behind as another gunshot rang out in the air. Clarke ran parallel to the party – more at home with the woods than they seemed to be. She was faster, too, running up the ridge instead of below it, like they were.

She spotted Monroe first, gun discarded on the ground, a knife in her hand and a man in front of her. They fought; wild slashes and heavy punches. Everything about it was messy; the Grounder obviously wasn’t a trained warrior – and if he were, she would have thought him to be able to speak English and be able to communicate. His yells were in Trigdasleng, and Monroe didn’t yell at all – obviously more capable with the gun that was thrown aside – more likely by him than her.

Clarke glanced back, finding the others still searching, and moved without thinking. She yanked her knife out of its strappings on her leg, and skidded down the hill. Clarke dodged right into the fight, tackling the Grounder and sending them both sprawling. He easily turned the tables, his weight baring down on her, whilst she swung her fist, then her knife. They caught his face and blood trickled out, before gushing.

As he groaned, hand flying to his face, she slashed the knife across his throat, pushing him off of her as blood bubbled out down his skin.

When Clarke rose to her feet, she remembered where she was, who she was with, and stared back at the four delinquents who were gaping at her. Clarke nodded, more to herself than to them, before wiping her knife clean on the grass. She stuck it back into its strap and picked up Monroe’s gun.

She nodded once more.

“Back to Camp, then,” she announced, trudging her way back up the ridge, in the direction of Camp Jaha. The other four trailed behind her for a while, not speaking before whispering amongst themselves.

Clarke strode, head high, gaze steely, back in the direction of Camp. She was nervous, yes – she was afraid of how Bellamy would react to her returning, what her mother would say, if she would be turned away at the gate. But she’d just killed a man who was trying to murder Monroe – the girl from the exchange on the Ark, who plaited her hair and knew she was a warrior from a young age, who had early acceptance into the guard before getting caught for theft of medicinal supplies.

She just wanted to keep her people safe.

Clarke just wanted to save her people.

She hadn’t been sure if she could do it, but now she knew that she stood a fighting chance. Clarke held the gun like she had been holding them for years; and she lead the Scouting Party back without a single issue, following the trail of red markers and the smoke from the meat hut at Camp.

When she reached the clearing, she only faltered once, before swallowing her feelings and pushing forward. Clarke lowered the gun as she reached the gate, and let them open up. The guards stared, unsure, and then the people did, too. She handed her gun away without a second thought, eyes scanning the grounds.

Clarke looked to the nearest guard. “Is the council meeting still going on?” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the shocked looks of those from the party, but she kept her gaze focused, her jaw locked. The guard nodded, unsure of what he was supposed to do, and Clarke braced herself. “Take me there.”

He did as he was told, and as she walked, her hair as bright as the sun and her skin like ivory, people turned to gawk. She recognised some – from the delinquents, from the Ark, but no one approached, they just watched her stride forward as if she was their leader once more. Clarke didn’t want to fight in battles and wars, she just wanted to keep the people around her safe from harm.

That’s what she knew.

When she reached the council room, the guard nodded and stepped aside. Clarke didn’t bother to knock but pushed the door open, watching as the faces in the room all turned to her.

“Clarke,” Bellamy breathed, disbelief covering his features.

“I guess the search party isn’t needed,” Kane mumbled, eyes wide. Clarke smiled, to herself, to Bellamy across the room, and moved towards the table, taking her place next to him. He handed her the tablet with the minutes of the last meeting on, almost as a reflex, and Clarke looked them over, relishing in the feeling of standing next to her partner, her equal, once more. When she looked up at him, his eyes solidly trained on her as if drinking her in for everything was is, Clarke smiled.

She was home.

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR READING  
> Please tell me what you thought about this, in the comments, and hit the kudos button!


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